


Rule 12

by TheShinyLizard



Category: NCIS
Genre: Challenge fic, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Slash, non graphic sexual content, to relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2677781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShinyLizard/pseuds/TheShinyLizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a reason for Rule 12 but Gibbs has to remind himself why he has that rule whenever Tony is around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rule 12

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!

 

Tony’s mouth was a cross country runner.

Gibbs never understood how Tony managed to talk without seeming to take a breath. Gibbs supposed it was one of Tony’s many talents and quirks. Tony’s need to fill the silence led to a verbose and one-sided conversation, with little to no input required from Gibbs. He didn’t stop Tony’s incessant chatter nor did he perpetuate it. Gibbs simply let Tony talk and talk and talk, about anything and everything. He didn’t stop the other agent from voicing every wayward thought: rambling on about movies or waxing on about a failed date. On some occasions, Gibbs would filter Tony’s chatter, other times he kept a close ear to the words. He never could completely ignore Tony’s voice.

The sound washed over Gibbs and relaxed him. Listening to Tony talk was an essential part of his workweek. Tony’s chattering was inevitable. Gibbs knew all was well with the other agent if Tony kept up a steady stream of chatter and if it changed to something more forced and the heavier syllables pronounced more sharply that told Gibbs something was wrong, maybe not erroneously or grievously, but something was wrong. Loquaciousness was an essential component of Tony’s affable personality.

It took a while but Gibbs learned that Tony didn’t always talk about what was important. Tony’s rambling covered a wide range of topics: from movies to sex and then to cars or sports, sometimes to a designer label whose name Gibbs couldn’t pronounce. But those topics hid the walls that Tony had built.

Gibbs saw the scars from those invisible wounds; the leftover effects of the emotional battles Tony had fought and won. The effects were in the hitch of Tony’s breath when something hit too close to home or the tightly reined in tone of Tony’s voice. All indicators that something had struck closer than Tony would’ve liked.

Sometimes Tony would sit back and Gibbs would wait because he knew what Tony’s silence meant, and when Tony was ready, Tony would open up and talk about whatever had been bothering the agent. There were times that Tony didn’t. Sometimes Tony would sit down and drink a beer or sip whiskey, eyes following Gibbs as he worked on the boat and Tony would be a quiet companion.

A lot of people saw only Tony’s exuberant façade. Tony’s loquacious side made defending and proving the senior agent to others demanding. They didn’t care to look deeper, further, peel back the layers to see what truly made Tony tick. Gibbs saw it though. He saw the difficulties Tony withheld from others, behind a shield erected after many years experiencing needless pain.

Tony had fought countless battles alone. Many of those battles were before Tony had met Gibbs. The former Marine stepped in and helped Tony whenever he could even though the other agent didn’t want Gibbs’ aid in every fight.

But he had to. Gibbs had to protect Tony. He fought for and protected Tony. He stopped most things before Tony could become aware of them. Tony may have known it, Gibbs hoped Tony didn’t, but Gibbs continued even after Tony repeatedly told Gibbs to back off. Gibbs couldn’t listen to that request, couldn’t abide it. He figured that Tony would have to accept that someone, Gibbs, wanted to and would do this, even without Tony’s approval.

Not that Gibbs needed Tony’s approval. Gibbs was the boss after all. That didn’t matter when all Gibbs wanted to do some days was tear Tony’s clothes off.

He had seen Tony nearly bare. The muscles lovingly earned and maintained through years of exercise were accented by an easy and confident swaggering posture. Most people would try to cover themselves up, not Tony. Tony’s back straightened. Standing taller than before Gibbs had come in, showing off, and jokingly Tony used a shirt to cover the expanse of bared skin.

Gibbs had dreams about living with Tony, not just nighttime visions, but waking dreams, moments where a sudden desire would strike him, causing Gibbs to reflect just how much he wanted to live with Tony and share an intimate space together. Sometimes it was an off the cuff remark from Tony, other times it might be a flippant grin tossed in Gibbs direction over something they had shared before, or it might have been (and this was most often the case) when Tony was at Gibbs’ house, watching him work on the boat, and Tony might be quiet (in a contemplative fashion with Tony waiting for the perfect moment to speak freely about a feeling or thought, something that might’ve been troubling) or Tony would be providing a welcome background noise and commentary while Gibbs worked. Tony’s presence had a soothing effect on Gibbs nerves, frayed or otherwise. And having Tony at the house only punctuated how reviving Tony’s presence was.

They’ve shared living space before when Tony had to move in.

The first days Gibbs sometimes caught an errant and (Gibbs considered it strictly from his end) unintentional eyeful. They learned to adjust to each other’s routines and soon it was like they had lived together for years.

Gibbs could clearly recall his heart hammering in his chest when Tony arrived one day and announced success at finding an apartment. Tony packed up all of the various possessions scattered throughout the house. They had lived together long enough that Gibbs considered the place theirs and he didn’t want to stop thinking it was. This house was meant for a family, and Gibbs had one with Tony. He never told Tony that. Gibbs helped Tony move to the new apartment because it would be faster- but also because he didn’t want Tony to go.

Lounging on Tony’s new counter, at the new apartment, eating pizza and drinking more beer than probably appropriate after hauling in a car’s worth of boxes, Gibbs caught himself looking at Tony and thinking that if Tony leaned to the left a bit then Gibbs could slip an arm around Tony’s shoulders and hold Tony close. As it was, Tony was close enough for Gibbs to kiss. Not a foot between them.

His eyes dropped to Tony’s full lush lips and all Gibbs had to do was turn to his left and lean close, cross the foot of space between them and press his lips against Tony’s. Gibbs could kiss Tony and slide a hand down Tony’s back, bringing Tony closer. Gibbs would cup Tony’s face in his hands and tilt Tony’s head slightly, angling for a deeper kiss. Their tongues touching, Gibbs could finally satisfy his yearning to know what Tony tasted like.

That night at Tony’s new apartment, the fantasy running through Gibbs mind, fraying the fragile control he held over his libido, Tony looked curiously at him. Hazel green eyes dropped low, glancing to Gibbs’ lips and then back to Gibbs’ heated icy blue stare. The cocky assured grin replaced by one more somber and inquiring.

Rule 12 flashed in Gibbs mind, reminding him why he hadn’t already initiated something with Tony, why he hadn’t taken Tony to bed yet and why they hadn’t gone on a date.

It was a rule and there were many reasons for its continued existence. Once Gibbs crossed that line with someone there was no going back. If Gibbs and Tony crossed the line from colleagues to lovers, Gibbs would never want to go back to anything less.

The camaraderie they shared was one of a kind, uniquely theirs. Gibbs wouldn’t squander it. He didn’t dare waste it. So it wasn’t out of cowardice or shame that Gibbs never spoke about what could be. He never spoke up because the relationship Gibbs and Tony already shared fulfilled many of Gibbs’ needs. The only one not satisfied, and it was regularly frustrated by Tony’s continued presence in his life, were his sexual desires.

In his more recent fantasies, Tony was Gibbs’ partner more often than any red head.

One of his favorite fantasies involved Tony sitting at Gibbs’ table, wearing nothing but one of Gibbs’ shirts and a pair of Gibbs’ boxers, all but announcing to the world that Tony belonged to Gibbs. Tony sipped a cup of coffee and read the sports section of the newspaper. Two of Gibbs’ favorite things combined: coffee and Tony. He wouldn’t head for the coffee machine or the mug at Tony’s hand. Gibbs would wait until Tony took a sip of coffee before he kissed Tony and drink the coffee, stealing it and a kiss. Gibbs would savor the bitter taste of coffee mixed with the delicious taste of Tony. Gibbs would clutch at Tony’s head and sink into the kiss, his hands tangling in Tony’s hair. Tony’s head would tilt in acquiescence, allowing Gibbs to plunder, and Gibbs would never tire of Tony’s taste, always yearning for a kiss with the brunette. Gibbs would pull Tony up and out of the chair and Tony would follow, willing and curious in Gibbs’ arms.

Tony would sit on the edge of the table at Gibbs’ insistence. Leaning back as Gibbs stood between Tony’s spread legs. Gibbs’ would slowly work the shirt off, drawing out sweet moans from Tony as Gibbs’ hands wandered and touched every inch of bared skin.

With the shirt finally off, Gibbs would drop to his knees and tug the boxers off, then kiss his way up Tony’s legs. Using his mouth and hands, Gibbs would bring Tony to climax, relishing the sweet sounds Tony uttered when coming. When Tony was ready, eyes hooded with arousal and desire, Gibbs would slide into the warm body and bury his head into the crook of Tony’s neck, nipping lightly at the skin there. Tony would buck, begging Gibbs to move, urging him on. Gibbs would relent, starting slow and easy, a languid pace, and as his pleasure built, the ecstasy mounting, Gibbs would pick up the pace and start slamming methodically inside of Tony, repeatedly hitting the one spot that had Tony howling, hands clutching and squeezing, and the rhythm that Gibbs had settled into would be gone and he would cease his tender pace and come inside Tony, Gibbs’ hands gripping Tony’s hips.

Kissing and discovering every sound Tony made was something Gibbs looked forward to if they ever were together. He wanted to know how sensitive Tony’s nipples were, how Tony liked being fucked (if Tony liked being on top, riding Gibbs, or if Tony wanted to be on his knees, Gibbs behind him; each idea aroused Gibbs, he simply wanted to be inside of Tony), and did Tony make the same noises when hungry, happy, during rough and needy, up against the wall, sex, would Tony sigh and shiver when Gibbs, slow and tender, inserted a finger, those questions and more plagued Gibbs’ mind, unanswerable because he would only trust firsthand experience for anything else was likely to be tainted by another. To answer every question that Gibbs had, because not all of his questions revolved around sex, it would take years of dedicated and passionate study.

The idea of spending years dedicated to Tony, living and loving together, excited Gibbs. The prospect of being under one roof again (permanently, to Gibbs at least) was exciting and this time without care for dress (If Gibbs had his way Tony wouldn’t wear anything but Gibbs’ shirts and boxers around the house where Tony would be temptation personified. Gibbs would start locking his front door just for Tony, if that was all it took to see Tony walking around wearing only Gibbs’ clothing). The first few days after Tony moved in, nothing would get done around the house. Gibbs imagined catching Tony moving a box or reading a book and Gibbs would pull Tony in for a kiss and deepen it, pulling out every sound. Gibbs would worship Tony’s body: memorizing every reaction, learn the subtleties of Tony’s varying moans and groans, and bring Tony to the peak of pleasure. He wanted to know what Tony looked like coming, the noises made and the jerks as the mind exploded from pleasure. Afterward, when Tony subsided from the high of climax, Gibbs would hold Tony in his arms, and press kisses to Tony’s forehead, whispering endearments.

Gibbs dreamed that Tony would wear his clothes after a particularly frenzied session, maybe just to go downstairs but would come back only to lose the clothes again when Gibbs saw Tony wearing his clothes. Tony was a damn fine investigator and would certainly figure out Gibbs’ penchant for seeing Tony wearing his clothes. And once Tony found out, home would be both heaven and hell.

As it was, that was currently work, which Gibbs was supposed to be doing right now, but instead Tony talked and Gibbs listened while they both waited on a stakeout.

It wasn’t as though working with Tony was bad. It was good in many ways, more ways than Gibbs would enumerate (of course he wouldn’t list them beyond the top three reasons, all of which happened be that he worked with Tony) if he were prone to such things.

One of the reasons it sucked to work with Tony was he heard Tony wax on about numerous sexual exploits. Certainly Gibbs heard more than he should. He struggled to maintain control over his baser passions during those occasions. No one said anything if the boss was testy or growled more than usual. They assumed he had a valid reason. In his mind he did, Tony was his, and yet Tony wasn’t. Tony wasn’t his and Gibbs didn’t know if Tony ever would be.

But there were times.

Times when Gibbs knew, in his gut, that Tony wanted him too.

That night when Tony moved into the new apartment and Gibbs had simply stared at Tony for a second too long- Tony noticed and Gibbs saw the glint in Tony’s brilliant hazel-green eyes.  Lust darkened them, making Tony damn near irresistible. Gibbs knew that Tony wanted it too. Tony wanted the silent, unspoken attraction between them to be acknowledged. Gibbs groaned and finished his can of beer, not knowing what ungodly number that one had been.

Fuck. He wanted it. Tony wanted it. Both of them wanted it.

Maybe Gibbs was a coward; he didn’t want to take the chance himself. He wouldn’t risk their current relationship on a whim. He wouldn’t slip a hand around Tony’s head and pull Tony closer, lips meeting until they finally confirmed that each of them felt something for the other.

The moment between them was gone, right when Gibbs looked away and to his can of beer, leaving the attraction unacknowledged between them, just like always. They were creatures of habit.

Tony showed up at Gibbs’ house most weekends, bringing along a six-pack of beer in one hand and carrying either steak or pizza in the other. They enjoyed each other’s company more than they enjoyed anyone else’s. They were Tony and Gibbs, nigh inseparable.

But they had to be.

Gibbs had to be able to put Tony into a dangerous situation and trust the other agent to make it out alive and well. Each time Gibbs had to make that decision he wanted nothing more than to run into harm’s way and take Tony out of there. He would bring Tony to his house and cuff Tony to his bed.

Gibbs could never do that though. This job was Tony’s life. Tony was a born investigator. There was an innate sense of justice that made Tony such an excellent agent. He couldn’t replace Tony. Not only because of how great an agent Tony was but also because of their dynamic.

“Hey, Boss,” Tony said, catching Gibbs attention. Gibbs perked up and looked to the other agent who was usually easily distracted but when it came to people watching and stakeouts there was no one better.

“Yes, DiNozzo?” Gibbs turned to face DiNozzo. Tony nodded for Gibbs to look out the window.

“Redhead, ten o’clock,” Tony cheekily said.

Pointing out red heads in Gibbs vicinity was a common occurrence. It was a game that Tony had started awhile back, the team had a habit of trying to set him up on as many dates as possible. Somehow these dates never worked out, not because it was the team trying to set him up, his dates just never seemed to measure up.

The women weren’t funny or quirky. They expected Gibbs to talk more than he was comfortable which usually created an awkward vacuum as his date waited for him to say something while he enjoyed the silence and the opportunity to study his date.

Looking to where Tony directed him, Gibbs grunted, “too young.” The red head couldn’t have been any older than mid-thirties.

“Eh,” Tony looked a second time, “you’re probably right.” Tony looked away from the red head and back to their target and started talking again, filling the silence.

There wasn’t such a thing as an awkward silence between them. There were times when Tony wasn’t as talkative as usual but there was never anything about the silence between the two of them being awkward. They had a connection, a deep personal one. Gibbs had a personal connection to each person on the team but none more so than Tony.

Gibbs had found Tony in Baltimore. And as cliché as it sounds, Gibbs had a feeling about Tony from the start. They finished the case together and Gibbs offered Tony a job at NCIS because that’s what people did when they found a partner they wanted- at their side and in their bed. And that’s what Gibbs did when he wanted said officer in his bed and at his side. But Gibbs ignored his baser emotions and carefully built a wall between Tony and him.

It’s easy to see how well that wall worked.

The only thing Gibbs that could think of that destroyed that carefully built wall was Tony’s incessant talking. It was impossible to ignore. The first few months together, Gibbs learned how to deal with Tony’s talkative personality. He didn’t need ear plugs because sometimes a sharply spoken “quiet” would shush Tony.

The first couple of weeks that Gibbs and Tony worked together Gibbs had considered that Tony would grow out of the unceasing chatter and learn that Gibbs wouldn’t respond. That erroneous assumption was soon proven false. Tony didn’t need someone to respond. Conversations with the Italian were heavily one sided. Gibbs tried telling Tony to shut up, which never lasted long because next thing Gibbs knew Tony would see something and it would spark something and Tony would start up again.

After several months, Gibbs had grown used to it. He found himself enjoying the moments when Tony babbled on about a topic, just listening to Tony’s voice. The pitch and timbre changed with a shocking fierceness when faced with a difficult suspect. Tony could be relied on to turn a suspect into an anxious ball of nerves simply from talking. After spending time with Tony the suspects would be ready to spill their guts on whatever topic Tony wanted. It also worked on victims and their families, Tony’s affable personality changed around those affected by violence, becoming a shield, as Tony sought to shelter people from the cruelties of the world.

Tony couldn’t save everyone. Just like Gibbs couldn’t save Shannon and Kelly. Gibbs had done everything in his power to avenge them; he had gone to Mexico and taken out the man responsible for the crime. It didn’t help. There was a void. Gibbs tried to fill it. He used booze, work, and women. None of it did any good.

The booze, Gibbs drowned himself in it. He sought solace in its liquid clutches, seeking to forget the tragedy that had befallen his fledgling family. It was a temporary reprieve. The next morning the loneliness was still there, prominent as always, biting at his will.

Gibbs threw himself into his work after their deaths. There was nothing for him to go home to, no wife, no kid, nothing. He became the hard-assed marine that everyone thought he was.

He married three additional times after Shannon, all red heads. They were consumed with changing Gibbs into something he wasn’t. They tried to encourage him to stay longer at home but Gibbs wouldn’t abandon his work for them.

It was something Shannon never tried to do. She loved his job and she loved him. She supported him in his efforts. She was the loving, doting wife at home. Gibbs loved his job but he also valued each moment he spent with Shannon and Kelly. He didn’t want that time to end but it had. And he couldn’t forget his first wife. The second, third, and fourth wife eventually grew tired of playing second fiddle to his work. Gibbs had someone at work he wanted to spend precious time with too. The guilt tugged at Gibbs’s heart when he spent more time with Tony than he did with his wife, those thoughts tore at him when he drove home, alone in his car, feeling as though he was cheating on them even when he knew he hadn’t. The feelings he had for his attractive chatterbox agent were inappropriate at best.

Sending Tony to talk with suspects worked well, especially on those attracted to Tony. Which Gibbs didn’t always want to consider but he knew Tony was attractive. It was an objective statement; Tony was attractive: lean muscles, lush lips, and a tall figure.

More suspects flirted with Tony than they did with any other agent. McGee’s competition to one up Tony in the romance department was doomed. No matter how much effort McGee put into it, he wouldn’t be able to beat Tony- or join Tony. Gibbs saw the looks McGee sent Tony. Longing looks when McGee thought no one was watching or lingering touches, holding onto Tony just a second longer than necessary. Ziva, on the other hand, teased Tony. She was borderline flirting with the other agent. Sometimes the flirting crossed the line and Gibbs wondered if the two agents were together or if this was them straddling the line and teasing each other. If he could help it, Gibbs didn’t pair Tony and Ziva during cases. He preferred the Mossad assassin to work with the resident geek; David and McGee complemented each other’s talents.

Tony and Gibbs complemented each other. Tony was the smooth talker, the flirt, the incessant chatterbox prone to engaging people in idle talk. Gibbs tended to speak in grunts and other guttural sounds, none of which were conducive when talking to a crying housewife or distraught boyfriend which is where Tony came in handy. Everyone liked the Italian. Gibbs hadn’t met anyone who didn’t enjoy spending time with Tony.

Except one. One person. Tony’s father.

Gibbs had heard the various childhood tales straight from Tony. The mother who Tony adored. The father who forgot about his only child, abandoning the child to living in hotel rooms, subsisting on room service and staff for friends. Sometimes Gibbs wished he could go back in time and give the elder DiNozzo a few good hits and a long lecture. No one, more importantly a child, should be treated that way, particularly by their own father. It was a good thing that Tony got out of there as soon as possible. The negligent father had done enough damage to Tony’s psyche, wounding Tony through emotional abuse. If Gibbs ever heard about physical abuse or dare he think it sexual, there would be no sanctuary for the elder DiNozzo. No spot, building, or location would save him from retribution. Tony was under Gibbs’ protection, even if the agent didn’t always approve.

There were inconsistencies in the stories with Tony’s father. Stories that didn’t quite match up. Not once did Gibbs suspect Tony of lying or exaggerating the truth. He knew Tony and he knew Tony’s tendencies. He knew how Tony would embellish a date or an encounter, how shifty the other agent would get; Gibbs could tell; it was a gut instinct. This wasn’t one of those things.

Tony’s father was barely mentioned. More often than not he was skimmed over. The sparse mentions involving the elder DiNozzo were always accented with a factitious laugh as Tony talked about a dreary childhood: times spent living from one hotel to the next, brought along like an errant piece of luggage. Tony was an afterthought and subsequently sometimes forgotten. Gibbs had heard enough stories to know that for each time Tony mentioned the elder DiNozzo forgetting his child there were another ten untold stories like it, hidden away, forced out of mind because Tony didn’t want to reveal the traumatizing past, didn’t want to relive it. Beatings Tony received in the past were flippantly mentioned. Gibbs saw the glazed eyes and heard the voice grow distant, caught in a tumultuous memory but it was quickly ended and followed by forced laughter.

Meeting Tony’s father wasn’t like Gibbs had pictured it. Gibbs had expected a balding man, reeking of success, a pompous attitude, and a penchant for aged scotch. The elder DiNozzo was most of that. But he didn’t come off as sleazy. He was an affable man, friendly, and affectionate, he even charmed Ziva, but Gibbs kept a wary eye on the man. Tony clammed up during the case, not once did Tony mention the father who neglected his child.

The weekend after the case involving Tony’s father was closed Tony showed up at Gibbs’ house carrying a twelve pack and a pizza- Gibbs didn’t question it. Tony downed five beers in rapid succession, idly munching on a slice of pizza. Tony talked about everything but the case. Tony ranted about the Bengals. Tony questioned how Gibbs managed to take the boats out of the basement. Tony criticized the food from Magiano’s. Gibbs waited it out. He sipped his beer, still on his first.

After several topics were vaguely discussed, Tony paused, gaze flickering to Gibbs before looking down to the beer, tapping at the aluminum can. “Gibbs, I haven’t seen…” Tony waved vaguely in the air, motioning, “my fath-,” Tony’s head shook, stumbling over the word father, and Gibbs clenched his fists under the table at that revelation, “in years.” Tony swallowed, tapping at the absentmindedly at the top of the can. Tony looked up at Gibbs, hazel-green eyes unusually glassy. Tony continued: lamenting about missing out on talking with the elder DiNozzo and wondering if there was a chance for reconciliation.

It pained Gibbs to encourage Tony to talk with him, to reach out and talk. All Gibbs wanted to do was rip Tony from those negligent hands and hold tight. He did witness the reunion, watching them from afar. They parted, Tony smiled congenially and the elder DiNozzo glanced at Gibbs skulking in the background and he grinned lewdly at Gibbs. Gibbs gave up all pretense after that. He had McGee filter out any communication from Tony’s father, sending them first to Gibbs’ account where he screened them before sending along the ones he approved of.

Tony still told stories after that, voice distant and eyes unseeing, unable to forget the past.

And Gibbs wanted to whisper to Tony that everything would be alright, no harm could come now. But Gibbs couldn’t promise that. Harm had befallen Tony several times.

Tony had inhaled the plague and survived it through some miracle. Gibbs had ordered his agent not to die, he never told Tony the reason behind that order though- he didn’t know what to do if Tony was gone. While in the hospital Tony insisted they watch a few of the movies together back at the apartment when Tony was released. Gibbs had grunted an agreement and enjoyed every minute of the time they spent together at Tony’s place while the other agent recovered from the bout. Gibbs couldn’t recall which movies they watched but he did remember Tony’s head falling onto his shoulder and the way Tony’s eyes would flicker in his direction to make sure Gibbs was watching the movie. Gibbs kept up a pretense of watching the movie but more often than not his gaze fell on Tony. He had almost lost Tony, and Gibbs was still recovering from his own punch to the gut: someone had almost taken Tony from him. He resolved to keep a better watch on the errant agent. For the next couple of months, Gibbs kept a close eye on Tony as he listened for coughs and shortness of breath.

One time, Ziva and Tony managed to get themselves stuck inside a shipping container for twelve hours, hunkering down inside of it. They held their ground and didn’t relent. Gibbs prayed for Tony to stay safe. He prayed to whoever was out there listening that Tony wouldn’t be injured. Gibbs couldn’t stand the idea of Tony being hurt (physically or otherwise).

Whenever Tony was injured Gibbs kept his hands in areas that were appropriate, checking for wounds. Tony would pull through every time, demonstrating an uncanny instinct for self-preservation that amazed even Gibbs. If Gibbs didn’t control himself, he would have kissed Tony senseless from relief as Tony once again escaped death. Gibbs wanted to yank the other agent down and press their lips together, whispering declaratives against pliant lips, telling Tony to never do something so stupid and reckless again. But Gibbs didn’t.

Gibbs wouldn’t be there to protect Tony forever. Tony had been offered the lead for several teams, even a team based in Spain. So Gibbs would protect Tony as long as he was able. No one would harm Tony under his watch.

But he also wouldn’t shelter Tony, couldn’t shelter Tony, because it wouldn’t be fair. Not to the investigation or to Tony. One of his best agents, it would cripple to team. Their high rate of success was easily attributed to the team’s cohesiveness. Tony’s unpredictability and utter calm in the face of danger was essential.

When facing down a suspect Tony didn’t stutter or stumble, Tony had a way with words. It was the weirdest thing when Tony was the suspect and Gibbs had to interrogate him. In his gut he knew Tony would never do this, Tony wouldn’t murder anyone more than Tony would leave the team. Tony had flat out refused offers to lead teams in more prestigious locations. Sometimes Gibbs had wished that Tony had taken the offer and moved away.

For one summer Gibbs got his wish. After the incident with Jenny, everyone blamed Tony, even Gibbs did, which he was loath to admit. Director Vance took control of NCIS and disbanded team Gibbs. David was back with the Mossad. McGee went to the basement to join the other nerds, toiling away on the computers and doing who knows what down there. Whenever McGee rambled in technobabble about the latest technological feat he had done, Gibbs demanded the agent speak in plain English. And Tony was sent away- off to work as an agent afloat on the USS Seahawk.

The first few days had been silent, a quiet and unobtrusive silence; it grated Gibbs’ nerves worse than McGee’s technobabble. It was the first time he realized how much he had grown used to Tony’s incessant chatter in the background. The quiet was peculiar and unbearable. The people the director stuck him with were even worse. They were unaffectionately dubbed the B team.

Part of him thought it would be a relief not to hear about a movie, a song, or the latest fashion from whatever designer had caught Tony’s eye. In stark contrast to Gibbs’ expectations Tony leaving to work as an agent afloat was the worst thing to happen. Gibbs had lost something precious. He lost Tony.

There was a relentless need to hear Tony’s voice. After working several years together Gibbs had done the one thing most people probably thought was impossible, Gibbs had started to like listening to Tony talk. He was used to it. And he didn’t want to stop. It was a part of his life and now his life was ripped asunder. He needed the semblance of normalcy. He needed to hear Tony speak.

So he had McGee set up a few calls so that Gibbs could call Tony and they could talk, sometimes the calls involved more of Tony whining and complaining about being aboard the USS Seahawk and hating it. Tony pleaded for Gibbs to pull a few strings or light a fire under a few choice asses. Only Gibbs didn’t know who held that power and would be willing to bring the special agent home. Director Vance wouldn’t, he wasn’t Tony’s biggest fan, but Gibbs pleaded the case. He argued for Tony’s return. He yelled at Leon for ripping apart Team Gibbs and scattering its members to the winds. He needed his partner back and as soon as he could Gibbs would have Tony at his side again, his rightful partner, the only person good enough to watch his back.

Over the years, Gibbs has had numerous partners but Tony was different. There was something special about the other agent that couldn’t be explained. They simply clicked. Gibbs watched Tony’s back, though sometimes watching Tony’s back loosely translated to being distracted by Tony’s ass and imagining Tony bent over various surfaces but Gibbs could push those thoughts to the side when it was necessary.

Tony was a walking distraction. Standing behind the other agent was the best vantage point to check out the other agent. It was rare that Gibbs allowed himself the pleasure of following Tony since Gibbs usually took point, a subtle attempt to shield Tony by walking into the danger before Tony could since Gibbs had military training and combat experience and Tony was a street smart cop out of Baltimore. If the situation they walked into happened to go pear shaped than Gibbs had a better chance of saving Tony if Tony was behind him than he did if other agent had gone in first.

Gibbs glanced to the side, taking everything about the other agent in. The near nonstop movement of Tony’s mouth, the crisp shirt, the tight pants that hugged Tony’s ass, the expertly styled and groomed hair, and the amused glint in Tony’s hazel-green eyes, the scrupulous attention to detail, and all the subtle nuances that was Tony; everything about Tony fascinated Gibbs. Gibbs had known the other agent for over seven years and yet he was still learning something new every day.

Perhaps the most difficult aspect of working with the other agent was separating his feelings. Gibbs knew he cared for DiNozzo more than was appropriate for a boss and subordinate relationship. It was making the job harder. Sending his senior agent into the line of fire and expecting Tony to walk away unharmed every single time from those dangerous situations was ridiculous. There were only so many times that someone could evade death.

The top priority for Gibbs was keeping Tony safe but right below that was keeping Tony happy. Considering the other’s penchant for investigating, asking Tony to go to a desk job was out of the question. Gibbs wouldn’t want that either because he liked seeing Tony. He wanted to see Tony, even if it meant that Tony faced danger. At least while they were working together Tony was under his protection. Gibbs could reprimand Tony for chasing after someone and going into a known dangerous situation alone, nearly causing Gibbs to have a heart attack. But that was Tony being Tony; if a victim was in trouble Tony could be counted on to risk life and limb to save the victim and if the suspect was about to harm another Tony would be there as a human shield. Everything that Gibbs loved about the other agent was also a reason as to why Tony made a good agent.

Tony was passionate, personally invested in everything. It was why as a senior agent Tony would get too close to a case sometimes because Tony connected empathetically. People talked with Tony; they opened up and shared their troubles. Tony made it seem so effortless but Gibbs saw the raw connection and the turmoil it caused Tony, Gibbs heard about it firsthand. He enjoyed being the one that Tony talked to about the problems. He didn’t want Tony going to anyone else to talk about the anxieties.

“Tony,” Gibbs said, breaking his silence. Stakeouts with Tony meant that Tony talked and Gibbs sat there with a cup of coffee in hand.

Pausing in the middle of whatever the hell tangent DiNozzo was on this time, Tony sprang to attention, head jerking, looking over to Gibbs and asking “boss?” Ready and waiting for whatever Gibbs needed.

“What do you say about us getting pizza together sometime?”

Gibbs didn’t mention anything particular about the pizza like where they would go, or what toppings they would order, or if there was a movie they might watch before, during, or after. Gibbs didn’t mention anything because this was it. This was the moment. He wasn’t going to be a coward anymore.

Tony, head cocked to the side, the easy grin shifted into something more questioning and curious. Tony stared inquiringly at Gibbs, no doubt working through the various meanings of getting pizza together. Relying on Tony’s innate sense of differentiating between flirtation and teasing, Gibbs watched various questions and emotions flicker across Tony’s face as the senior agent puzzled out the significance of the pizza. Pizza wasn’t special. They’ve shared pizza before. They’ve argued over the toppings and how large a pie they should get. So pizza wasn’t special, but Gibbs knew when realization dawned, bright and clear, on Tony’s face that Tony could tell there was something special about this particular pizza.

This wasn’t a pizza. This was a date. This was a step forward. A step into another chapter of their relationship. They had spent years watching each other’s back and now they were moving forward, together.

Not needing to ask a question or spoil the moment, Tony relaxed in the chair, shoulders slumping. Tony checked their target, so did Gibbs, nothing happening, before Tony’s smile turned into to a cheeky smirk.

“Sure. Any preference on place?” Tony asked. He took a sip of soda. “Oh, and by the way, I’m choosing the movie.”

“We can figure that out later,” Gibbs said. He took a sip of coffee, hiding a genuine smile of his own behind the mug.

“Sure thing, boss,” Tony said.

Silence settled in for the next few moments. Gibbs surreptitiously glanced at Tony.

The other agent started up again. This time instead of movies or whatever the hell Tony had been talking about before Tony discussed varying pizza places, the proximity to the apartment, and who had better delivery, or if they’d want to pick the pizza up on the way home. Tony didn’t talk about the toppings; they had long ago settled on how they liked their pizzas. Gibbs found that he liked eating pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese if it was with Tony. Any other time than that Gibbs was a meat lovers fan.

Gibbs leaned back in the chair, looking ahead at their target, Tony’s rambling drifting in the room, and sipped his coffee. There was no doubt about it- he loved the sound of Tony’s voice.

**Author's Note:**

> Please Review!
> 
> Some background on this story… It started out as a challenge. One that I issued to myself. I wanted to see if I could write a story where a character could be both male or female. If you noticed I never called Tony a he or used any male pronouns when relating to Tony. I even changed it from DiNozzo senior to the elder DiNozzo since a female Tony wouldn’t have a DiNozzo senior as a father. So I hope you enjoyed this. 
> 
> Also I haven’t forgotten about The Tale of Sean Pierce or the Heirs of Durin. I’m working on those. My NaNo time is dedicated to fanfiction this year.
> 
> *un-beta'd but I did double check for errors but even things escape my scrutiny. You're welcome to bring errors to my attention. I'm happy to fix them.


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